


One More Drink

by EvilBecky



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bars, Bi!Dean, Drinking, M/M, OC, Random Strangers - Freeform, sexual awakening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 19:58:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3703597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilBecky/pseuds/EvilBecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every since acquiring The Mark of Cain, Dean has had a lot to think about. But he isn't the kind to talk about his feelings. He would much rather stare into the bottom of a bottle than talk. But when a night at the bar doesn't go the way he thought it would, he finds himself face-to-face with feelings and thoughts he never thought he'd encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Drink

The bar was unusually crowded that night. Not like that bothered Dean at all. He would just sit at the bar with his drink and his thoughts, tuning out the rest of the world. The sounds were oddly soothing to him; the soft click of pool balls, the deep chatter of the patrons, even the distant hum of ironic classic rock music. It allowed Dean a few hours to contemplate the thoughts he was too scared to think of in the confines of the bunker.

As he set his drink down, he rolled up the sleeve of his shirt to look at the Mark of Cain emblazoned on the underside of his arm. His finger ghosted over it lightly. The skin felt smooth like it had been burned but it felt normal. That was the most unsettling part about it; that it felt so fucking normal. Like a birthmark he’d always had. It should at least feel weird. Frustrated, he pulled his sleeve back down and downed the rest of his drink.

The bartender came over and nodded to him. “Another one, Dean?”

He shrugged. “Why the hell not? It can only help.” He slid his glass over for him to fill. 

Having a good, reliable bartender was one of the best things of having a home base. He kept a good bar too. Although not the cleanest in the world, it was a respectable enough joint. As he pressed the glass to his lips, the bartender leaned over a bit to him.

“You look like you’re drinking for a reason.” He said a little lowly so only Dean could hear.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Just the usual reasons. Money, women, or lack thereof.” 

He was about to respond to that, when the door opened. He nodded to the newcomer. “Evening. What can I do for ya’?”

Dean turned his head to see a young man enter. The first thing he noticed was his hair. It was perfect. Shaved close on both sides and long on top, it was coiffed into a nearly immaculate pompadour. No telling how long it took him to get it like that. It was healthy and a perfectly glossy black shade that made his brown eyes look almost hazel in the dim light. He shot the bartender a bright smile and walked over.

This kid definitely didn’t fit in here. Not just his hair, but everything about him was ripped out of some fashion magazine. His arms were decorated in bright, vivid tattoos and his long, lean body was clothed in designer jeans and a worn graphic tee shirt (Transformers, if Dean’s eyes didn’t deceive him). Dean also took a peep down at his shoes. He couldn’t help but chuckle at himself. High tops. Why should he be surprised?

The guy took a seat a few chairs away and ordered a more expensive dark liquor with soda. Dean, his curiosity satisfied, turned back to his own drink, letting the ice cubes bump against his lips. If he had only one more drink he was sure he’d be fine to drive back. He didn’t want Sammy to panic or whatever. Not that he would, he just liked the mental image of his little brother pacing the library, worrying where Dean was. 

He was just about to order that drink, when his attention was drawn back to the newcomer. One of the voices that had been part of the din earlier, was now talking a lot louder than before and it was saying some fairly unpleasant words.

“Hey, faggot! What d’you think yer doin’ here?”

The kid looked up at a group of three guys, each one bigger and drunker than the other. Dean recognized them only from their matching leather vests which were usually turned towards the dart board.

“I’m just here for a drink.” The kid answered, his voice steady but masking a mild panic. “Nothing wrong with that.”

The oldest of the three attackers snorted. “Sure is a helluvva lot wrong. ‘Specially since you ain’t welcome here.”

The bartender came over, speaking firmly. “He paid for his drink. He’s welcome.”

The guy closest to the bar shot him a nasty look. “Shut yer mouth, Tim. Ain’t no one asked you. Yer old man wouldn’t’ve let his kind in here.”

The original speaker poked the kid in the shoulder. “Yer either real thirsty or real stupid t’ come in here, kid. ‘Less you thought you’d be gettin’ lucky tonight.”

At this point, Dean noticed everyone was watching. He also couldn’t help but notice that no one was doing anything. From what he gathered, these three were old patrons of the place and no one dared to speak up to the harassment. One guy excused himself and went to the bathroom, hoping it would all blow over by the time he got back.

“Look.” The kid said finally, swallowing hard. “I’ve been on the road all night. I just needed a rest. I’ll be gone in a…”

He was interrupted by the older guy leaning over to him and slamming his hand on the bar. “You shouldn’t’ve stopped in the first place! Now we’re gonna have to show you what we do with little fuck boys like you.”

Dean was out of his seat before the statement was out of his mouth. It took him all of two strides to walk up behind the kid and speak up.

“Is there a problem?” He asked in his patented ‘don’t fuck with me’ voice. 

Now it was his turn to have the eyes on him. The three guys looked like he had just asked them a complicated math question. The kid almost looked terrified. The atmosphere was buzzing with anticipation and nerves. 

“Ain’t yer problem.” The leader of the three men answered, crossing his arms in front of him. “Just gettin’ rid a’ some trash.”

Although the other two laughed at that, Dean didn’t. He fixed them with his most intimidating poker face, one eyebrow curving up almost like a question. “Didn’t know you boys were garbage men.” He answered. 

This seemed to baffle them a bit. As their mouths hung open like a bunch of fish, Dean looked to the bartender. “He pay for his drink?”

He nodded, giving Dean a grateful look. “Yeah. And a little extra for tip.”

Dean then shifted his gaze to the kid. His face had changed from terrified to relieved and he could almost see a smile across his lips. Dean winked at him reassuringly. 

“Well, if that’s all the kid wanted and he ain’t done nothin’ to you, I’d say you’re done here.” He then took another step and put himself between the kid and the three old-timers.

Although the other two looked like they were more than happy with that, the leader’s face turned bright red. “No we ain’t!” He spat out. “We can’t be lettin’ these gays in here! Y’know what’ll happen then?”

“Zima sales go through the roof?” Dean countered. He heard the kid snicker a little bit behind him and he felt satisfied with that. 

The leader of the group took exception to that. “He ain’t welcome! An’ if yer on his side, then you ain’t either! You two c’n suck each other’s’ dicks fer all I care, just git out!”

Dean felt his blood boil. It wasn’t the gay comment that got him, but the fact that these shit heads were telling him to leave. Who the hell did they think they were, telling him to get lost? He would show them; he could take them all out. It wouldn’t take much to bash their heads against the bar. He could almost see their skulls crack open and their blood and brains go splattering to the floor. It was be oh, so satisfying to rip them open with his bare hands to the shock and horror of the onlookers…

“Okay. We’re gone.” 

Dean felt a soft, warm hand on his arm pulling him away from the bar. It was almost like he’d blacked out for a second. The three guys were staring at him like he had voiced those horrible thoughts out loud. He blinked hard before allowing himself to be gently pulled away by the guy he had been defending. He gave them one last cocky smile before turning and walking out, his hand instinctively going to the kid’s lower back protectively.

The minute they were outside, the kid let out his breath. “I am so sorry…” 

“Nah. You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry for.” Dean answered, pulling his hand away from him. “People suck.”

He snorted with laughter. “Yeah, you don’t have to tell me that.” He shook his head and ran his hand through his thick hair. “And here I thought I was being conspicuous.”

Dean shrugged. “I have a feeling those jerks were just lookin’ for a fight. Don’t put any stock in what they said.”

The kid smiled at him warmly. Dean wasn’t so sure, but he thought he could see a bit of a blush across his nose. “Well, thank you anyway. They might’ve kicked my ass.”

They stood there for a moment, not sure what to do now. Finally, Dean cleared his throat and looked around for a car that he didn’t recognize. “So, where are you parked? You need me to help you find a motel or something?”

This time he was sure he blushed. “Okay, so this’ll make me look like a complete idiot…think you could give me a lift?”

For some reason, that made Dean laugh. Soon they were both laughing like it was the funniest thing they’d heard that day. Dean agreed to take him to the nearest motel and they piled into the Impala. 

His name was Max. He had only a single, overloaded duffle bag to his name which he threw into the backseat of the car with a thud. Dean didn’t ask him why a guy like him was out on the road and Max didn’t say. He didn’t need to know this kid’s life to get him to where he needed. But one look at his eyes told him that it was about as complicated as his own tale of woe.

Dean nodded to the glove box. “There should be a flask in there. Help yourself.”

Max fished it out and unscrewed the top, taking a healthy drink from it. He grimaced. “Wow. How long’s this been in here?” He teased.

Dean took the flask from him, sniffed at it, shrugged, and took a drink himself. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. This stuff’s been aged perfectly.”

Max laughed and shook his head. “That’s a bit too manly for me, thanks.” 

Dean took another drink before putting the flask away. “So where’re you headed after this?”

“California.” He answered. “I know it sounds corny, but I’m hoping to make it big there.”

“Good on ya’.” Dean said. “Hopefully I see you on the big screen.”

He shook his head. “Nah, not acting. Modeling.” He shrugged. “I’m shit at acting. But I can look pretty for a living.”

Dean chuckled a bit at that. “Well, good luck with that. I’ve heard it’s pretty cutthroat.”

Max raised an eyebrow up at him and Dean felt the side of his face heat up a bit. “I dunno. You might wanna think about it yourself. I can see you on a full-page spread with nothin’ but your unmentionables.”

Dean chuckled, but this time there was a bit of embarrassment under his laugh. “I guess we’ll never know.”

The rest of the car ride was a bit quiet. Max was looking out of the window with a faraway look on his face. Dean kept looking over at him despite himself. No doubt Max would succeed in his endeavors in modeling…

What are you doing, Dean? Stop looking at him. This kid’s had enough problems without you staring at him like some weirdo. Besides, you’re not into that. That’s not you. Just keep driving and you’ll get this kid off to where he needs to be. He shook his head a little and wondered if he could get away with speeding a little bit. But soon enough the motel came into view and Dean pulled up.

“Well, here ya’ go.” He said throwing the car into park. “Try to stay outta the rough places.” 

Max chuckled and made for his wallet. “Here, let me give you some gas money. Prices are crazy.”

As he handed him a ten, Dean shook his head. “Nah, it’s on me. Call it an apology from everyone at the bar.”

Max took his time stuffing the money back into his wallet. “Hey, Dean? Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

He bit his lip and shifted a little in his seat. “Would you…I dunno…wanna come in for a minute?”

Again, all the blood rushed to his head. But this time it wasn’t out of anger or blood lust. It wouldn’t be the first time a guy hit on him, but no matter how many times it happened to him, it caught him completely off guard. After all, Dean Winchester was a man’s man. He loved women and women loved him; he had the track record to prove that. But when it came to guys…it was complicated.

Dean realized that he hadn’t answered the question. But what do you say? It wasn’t like he was a bad kid or anything like that. And even though he kept calling him a kid in his head, he was probably in his twenties, so the age thing wasn’t the issue. He should say no immediately. So why wasn’t he? He was just sitting there with his mouth open like a fish out of water for no reason.

Max made the first move. He gently reached his hand over and placed it on his thigh. Dean looked down at it dumbly. A thought flashed through his mind that he should put his hand over his or something, but again, his body wasn’t doing what his mind told him to do. He watched Max gently rub his leg a little before lifting his eyes to meet Max’s. They really did look pretty in the light from the motel.

Max leaned into Dean’s space. Now Dean’s mind was yelling at him in a voice that sounded eerily like his father’s. It was telling him to stop this before it got worse, to kick Max out of the car and drive off never to think about it again. And maybe this time he didn’t listen because it sounded like John Winchester. At least that’s what he told himself as he got a whiff of Max’s cologne. It was nice; a bit fruity, like oranges or something like that. 

And then Max was kissing him very softly on the corner of his mouth like he was testing to see if it was alright. Dean gripped his hand firmly as those lips pressed again to his face. Again, it was nice. His lips were soft against his rough, weather beaten skin and it made his face heat up a degree more. But when he made to kiss his lips, that’s when Dean pulled away. This was wrong. But not wrong like “this isn’t something I should be doing”. More like “this isn’t who I should be doing this with”. 

“I’m sorry.” Max said, pulling back and moving his hand from Dean’s thigh. Apparently he got the message. 

Immediately Dean was shaking his head. “No, no. It’s okay. I mean…” He sighed heavily, shaking his head. “It’s complicated.”

His eyebrows were twisted in concentrated torment over how he should continue. He didn’t want to insult him or anything like that. But how do you say to someone ‘sorry I’m not gay’? Thankfully, Max was a lot better at this than he was.

“It’s okay. It was a shot in the dark.” He went for his wallet again and pulled out the ten. He set it on the dashboard. “Thanks for the ride. And everything else.”

He didn’t sound upset. And when he got out of the car to retrieve his things, he didn’t do it in an angry manner. It just rolled off his back like it really was no big deal. Maybe it wasn’t to him, but to Dean, this was huge. It wasn’t every day that a guy made an advance on him. He was sure that he’d be disgusted but he wasn’t. The only reason he stopped was because it was someone he’d never met before. Did that mean if it were someone he knew that he’d be more willing? The possibility made his head spin.

Before he walked away, Max stopped at his window and leaned in. “Hey; before I go. Let me give you some advice.”

Dean nodded. “Sure. What’s up?”

“Whoever it is that you love, you don’t need to keep it to yourself. Sometimes you’ve gotta take a chance or you’ll never know.”

Dean watched him walk in and get a room. He didn’t leave until he thought he was set up. He was back on the road with his head buzzing with questions that he wasn’t sure he could answer. There was one answer he did have; it was a good idea to take Max to the motel. If nothing else, it was good karma.

By the time he got back to the bunker, Sam was still sitting to his books. Dean made himself a sandwich and hid away in his room to eat and to think. But he didn’t even touch his food and the only thing he kept thinking about was Max’s hand on his thigh. He was torn because he was taught to be a man and not to have those kinds of thoughts. His teacher had been none other than John Winchester himself. But John was long dead and Dean now had freedom to explore these thoughts about himself. It was a little scary, but it made a whole lot of sense.

Someone did love him; Castiel. At least, Dean loved him. He didn’t even realize that’s what he had been feeling and when he ever came close to realizing it, he would push it back down. But with everything that’s happened to him and now with The Mark on him, there wasn’t much time left for thinking. Maybe it was about time he acted on these thoughts.

That night Dean had an intense dream about Castiel. He had taken the place of Max in the passenger seat of the Impala and when he went in for the kiss, Dean didn’t pull away. Instead, he grabbed him and held him close, not letting go. When he woke up, he was sweaty and confused but a step closer to figuring himself out. Now, if only he could find the bravery to say something.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write a Bi!Dean fic for some time. It might seem like a worn out line of thought, but I really think the recent episodes have been pointing him in that direction. But the writers are holding out! So that's where I'm picking up the slack! Haha! Anyway, hope you loved it! Here's to Bi!Dean 2K15! (Or at least 2K16 :3)


End file.
